


Lemon and Blood-Tinted Ice Cream

by Delenn (goddessdel)



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bittersweet, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Ice Cream, Takes place between Epiphany/Reprise and Heartthrob, but with vampires, past Angel/Darla, questionable eating choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-04
Updated: 2005-08-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22646986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessdel/pseuds/Delenn
Summary: A lot of ‘impossible’ things can happen in the Angel-verse, but sometimes they fit together so nicely that it’s hard to notice until it sneaks up and whacks you over the head.
Relationships: Darla (BtVS)/Lindsey McDonald (AtS), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 1





	Lemon and Blood-Tinted Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Reprise, pre-Heartthrob. Izmaldi, this one is for you darling, because it’s pretty much your pairing. Aren’t you proud?
> 
> Written a long time ago, but still worth sharing, I hope.

“I’m going out. Anything you want?” He’s frozen by the door, pretending that what she wants isn’t the only reason that he does anything anymore.

Lounging distractedly on the couch, she hardly looks up. Caught somewhere between blinding rage and unfailing tenderness; her position and the human near her. She could get up and go with him, as his eyes implore, but it still hurts a little bit and seems too bothersome. “AB negative and ice cream.”

“Flavor?”

Blinking, she looks up and her pretty mouth turns to a slight frown. “I said, AB negative.”

If he’s surprised by her requests, Lindsey doesn’t show it. Doesn’t so much as raise an eyebrow that the four hundred year old vampire knows what ice cream is or that she wants some. Just nods and opens the door to leave.

She thinks that maybe he said goodbye but Darla’s no longer paying attention. The empty apartment doesn’t bother her any. Just turns back to watching some overly fake, barely gory movie and laughs when the star sees blood, screams, and mock-faints. “Stupid bint.” Chuckles and wonders if she should try to contact Spike – after all, Dru must be there by now.

The idea is tossed away as entailing too much work and having too much potential for her looking like she cares. Right now her only priorities are waiting for her wounds to fully heal, being taken care of, and not thinking about the failure that was Angel. Not. Thinking. About. It.

When Lindsey returns home, swinging a paper bag containing his purchases, he finds a dead body in the entryway and a pizza on Darla’s lap. When he questions her on the subject, Darla regards him with a tilted head, a smile, and an, “I got hungry.”

Her look dares him to ask further. Noting that he’ll have to call someone to take care of the mess, Lindsey can’t help but wonder if this is her way of showing him that she’s getting better. When a few weeks before, she couldn’t have bit through flesh if she’d tried.

Instead, he nods and sets the bag on the table in front of her, taking off his jacket and struggling with his tie – it’s the one he never can get off. “Sorry it took so long.”

Shrugging, Darla sets the pizza box on the table and motions him towards her. Reaching up and effortlessly untangling the knot of his tie with a speed humans could only hope to achieve.

He’s in the bedroom changing and she’s mixing the lemon ice cream (a vague part of her laughing as she remembers liking the bitter taste of lemons while human) and blood in a mug for microwaving, when it hits her.

Turning around at a cool breeze, Lindsey finds her standing in the doorway, expression unreadable, and desperately tries to cover up his half-nakedness with his one good arm and recently discarded shirt. “Did I get the wrong flavor of ice cream?”

Stunned, she can only imagine that, since he’s human, the question must not seem so wrong to him. “What’s wrong with me?”

Her breathy whisper makes him look up from attempting to find a more comfortable shirt, and the horror in her eyes makes him abandon the search. Concerned, Lindsey steps towards her, wanting to take her in his arms but wondering if that would be the wrong move. “What is it? What happened?”

Not listening, she turns back into the living room, sinking back down on the couch – eyes more focused on the box empty of pizza than the body empty of blood. “I was eating. Food.”

From the kitchen, the beep of her bloody concoction sounds, announcing that it’s warm, and Lindsey quickly moves to get it, not liking the look that Darla’s wearing. “So?” He fumbles for a spoon to stir the hot mug. “Lots of vampires eat.”

“Not me.” She accepts the mug but does not touch it, eyes still staring beyond the room. “I wasn’t just eating; I was craving it.”

Still unnerved by how concerned she is at this, Lindsey gently sits next to her on the couch (an act that he hopes isn’t forbidden). “Cravings hmm?” Attempts a bad joke, “Maybe you’re pregnant.”

There’s a pause where the expected laughter doesn’t come and, suddenly, he finds his arms full of crying vampire. Awkward, both about his naked chest and missing hand, he tries to pat her on the back with the good one. Not sure if she wants to be comforted. “Darla?”

Leaning against him, her burnt, cool flesh against his warm, human skin, makes her cry harder. Her tears infuriate her and yet there’s no stopping them. Muffled against his chest, “I think I am.”

He catches enough of it to be concerned. Sits up straight and wishes he had two hands to brace her away from him. “What? Darla?” Feels like he should laugh at the joke but nothing inside of him is laughing.

Grabbing his good hand, firmly but as gently as possible, she runs it along the front of her body. Ignores his strangled protest and harsh breathing. “I feel different,” doesn’t let go of his hand, “outside and in. Emotions and this feeling… like something’s crawling around inside of me that shouldn’t be there.”

Trying to pull his hand away while following its every caress, Lindsey strangles out an explanation. “You’ve been through a lot; you’ve been dead, human. It must feel different than-”

Gently, she laughs, “Not,” shakes her head, “not this.” Still running their entwined hands over her body – back and forth. “I’ve been so hungry lately,” wants to dismiss it but can’t.

A memory hits her, something that Drusilla had said before she’d left and that Darla had cast away as insane ramblings. Lindsey is muttering something about this being impossible, but Darla cuts him off. Laughs bitterly. “Drusilla knows. She always knows and none of us can ever figure out what she’s on about.” Just like Angelus and the gypsy - Spike and the Slayer.

It’s then she realizes that Lindsey’s hand is still in her grasp, his body stiff against hers. Remembers what this must mean to him and curses the emotion, determined to squash it down. “Lindsey, Lindsey…”

He turns to her, mouth pulled tight in a bitter line, eyes hurt. “I knew they wanted more from you than they’d say, Darla – but this…” he seems disgusted by the idea, swallowing it down visibly and painfully.

“Shh…. shh…” she smiles up at him, the picture of innocence masking a demon, “that’s why I ate them. All. Up.” She’s moving on the couch – shifting so that she’s on his lap, straddling him.

The position isn’t friendly. Ignoring his strangled protests about their position, her lips find his neck, kissing it softly, and Lindsey stops making any sound at all. Afraid to discourage or encourage her. Trying to prove he trusts her.

She whispers against his ear as her hand slides down his bare torso, “Oh, Lindsey… Want it to be yours? Want to make it yours?”

He gasps as she grasps him, hard but not hard enough to break him. Chokes out a reply, “Darla… don’t…”

“Why not?” she bites his neck lightly, with human teeth, and then moves to sit up straight, regarding his eyes. “Isn’t this,” she jerks harshly against him, words rough, body rougher, “what you want?”

Eyes protesting, Lindsey keeps his mouth tightly closed. Regardless of what he wants, how he wants her (because she knows that he wants her), if this is what she wants, he’ll go along with it.

Exhaling useless air, Darla stills. Tries to let go of the anger that she knows isn’t directed at Lindsey. Leans down against him, resting her cheek on his chest. “What if I told you I was going to make it go away?” Her voice still a whisper.

Knowing, perhaps better than she does, what emotions are being hidden with anger, Lindsey rests his chin on her head, his good hand gently breaking away from her and moving to stroke her hair slightly. “Impossible things happen for a reason,” he can’t help but wonder how much longer they can stay here and whether she’ll come with him when they leave.

“Like me? What’s my reason, Lindsey?”

Pulling her tighter, knowing that she could escape in a second if she wished, Lindsey shrugs as best he can with a lap full of vampire, “To be here, with me.” Nearly sighs with relief when she doesn’t contradict him, “Just… next time? Leave me some pizza.”

Making a sound somewhere indistinguishable between a laugh and a choke, Darla shifts in his lap again. Brings both her hands up to his face and just looks at him for a moment.

When she leans in for a kiss, it’s gentler than her actions before, an apology or a beginning, and this time Lindsey has no illusions of pulling away.


End file.
